A Crossing With a Difference

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A CROSSING WITH A DIFFERENCE, August 13-15. As this trip comprised of two "Tongue and Meats" and one Note Hutt Valley member we have obtained permission from the writer to reprint from "Hills and Valleys" Three of us decided to do a Winter Southern Crossing - Leon, "Spud" and myself. Lazily we spent Friday night at the Cottage. The morning was clear, with a grey sky looking grim and foreboding - reminding us a storm could be brewing. A short stop at Fields, and then away. Around Table Top the snow became dreper as we slowly moved up to the divide. Climbing steadily to West Peak we felt the wind freshen. Strong gusts took us over Hut Mound to Kime, After digging three foot of snow out of the porch, we were glad to be in the hut. The wind grew stronger until Kime was gently rocking, We unrolled the sleeping bags and prepared to ride out the storm, By evening there was still a steady roar outside - three foot of snow had drifted inside the porch again. With only a little fuel, we rationed it out with the food - storms can last for days. Suddenly, around midnight, we were awakened, Something had hit the roof with a terrific crash, We snuggled down into our sleeping bags. Something unexplainable was happening. Perhaps Cedric (the ghost from Powell) was around.

Several minutes later there was another crash. The hut rocked and trembled. Kime seemed very lonely in the storm, We wondered about the noisc and let our imaginations race, Another crash - we realized what was happening. Ice had collected on the ridging in great quantities, The storm was breaking it up and great blocks were rolling down the roof, to crash on to the porch. Sleep came very slowly, as thuds and crashes competed with the roar of the storm, About four, the wind dropped and the stars twinkled above, Breakfast was early we had a long day Mist kept the views from us = on Field Peak ice kept us on the alert, came and we were on the ahgedtor Beehives, My crampons proved their usefulness. Over Atkinson, and we were in soft deep snow around the Dress Eircle, On and on, one foot in front of the other; deep soft snow, We trudged on. The slopes of Alpha loomed up in the murk = the wind had freshened and rain was scudding across the snow, At long last - the bush edge, and Alpha Hut. Deep snow surrounded it - perhaps the dead opposum inside had been too cold, Some food and we were away. Deep snow among the trees kept the pace slow, Hell's Gates appeared -me were nearing Omega, Hour passed hour as we tramped down the Marchant. The rain grew steadier - the pace slower. Time went by. Discs on the new Marchant sidle track showed dimly in the growing dusk. Somewhere, past Dobson's darkness finally enveloped us I- lights became necessary. Three wet and tired trampers finally reached the road - a crossing accomplished. A.J.H. H.V.T.C.